Non Omnis Moriar
by Oillet
Summary: "I'm going to fix our baby." She said, hands rubbing her stomach. "He's broken; like you. But I can fix him."


**Disclaimer:** Fiona and Riccardo belong to Capcom; I claim no right to them.**  
Warnings:** Contains violence, blood, a rather tame sexual situation, and the pairing of Riccardo x Fiona. Don't like it? The back button is located on the upper left-hand side of your page.

Lavender candles burned, their flames firm and without flicker as no air made its way into the otherwise dark room. It was not their light that made her aware of their existence; but the calming smell that fluttered its way into the one open shade of the canopy that surrounded their bed. Fiona breathed in the scent deeply as the warm shape behind her pried at the pearl buttons of her sterling white nightgown, rough lips working their way up the soft skin of her neck.

Her eyes fluttered opened the tiniest bit at the feeling of a leathery hand sliding delicately up under the soft cotton fabric, cracked palms rubbing gently at her large, swollen stomach. Fiona let out a sigh that hitched into a vibrato, leaning back against her husband like a doll to its creator.

The child inside her was as broken as the man that caressed him. She did not need to see her son to know this - she knew. He lay inside her, but rarely moved. Often she would press her delicate hands to her abdomen and feel his small body pressed against her skin, but even a slight twitch was a fleeting gift rarely felt. Perhaps he did not have the energy to move - these days she herself rarely felt like moving, her body tired and racked with fevers and nausea as it desperately tried to fuel both itself and fix the broken child within that already required so much of her Azoth. Yet this miserable existence of knowing her fetus was nothing but a shell was not unknown to her.

All her babies were broken. The two that had reached birth were years ago - twin girls so beautiful she almost cried upon seeing them. Yet days into their life she had stumbled upon screaming infants in a bloody crib - they had cracked, as if someone had taken their gorgeous doll-like faces and delicate appendages and dropped them to the ground, shattering their pale skin like fine china thrown against a wall. Yet that was not all that had cracked - their insides had dried and splintered, and a week later they were gone.

After that, no child thrived in her womb. Time passed and each pregnancy seemed to shorten - children being born too soon, their weak and no doubt scarred hearts and lungs unable to hold out, even with the finest of alchemy. Something told Fiona that had Riccardo truly wished it, these children could have survived - as broken and emotionless dolls, but alive none the less. Yet the man that had claimed her had a very specific idea of what his children should be - and disgusting, Azoth-lacking mongrels was not it. In this way, Riccardo cruelty was almost a blessing - her babies floated in a pleasant afterlife instead of a meaningless existence on earth.

For the past two years there had been nothing but miscarriages - awaking to pain in her stomach and a bloody bed. Often times the feeling was accompanied by a warm, wet cloth gently ridding her thighs of blood, whatever proof she had been pregnant already removed from the bed. Riccardo would then often gift her with a drink, after he was done cleaning her off - it always contained sedatives, yet she would take the glass willing from his hands and down the whole thing. She couldn't bare the feeling of that fog that had held her mind captive for so long taking over again, where she would scream and cry and laugh herself to sleep.

This child's ability to thrive had intrigued Riccardo deeply - he had once again began to track her pregnancy, writing down developments and things such as the growth rate of her belly in his scientific journal, a leather bonded book that future Belli's would read to learn of the more nature origins they had extended from. Yet if he had any faith this child would survive, he did not show it - never gracing the fetus with a future tense. Unbeknownst to him, Fiona had given their son a name in her mind; _Dionisio_, Dino for short. She had given all their babies names; yet no gravestones had been added to the graveyard since Lorenzo. The girl was more than aware that her children lay frozen or in jars somewhere in the mansion, cadavers of Riccardo's interest.

Her drunken stupor of bitter memories was interrupted by another pearl button sliding out of the slot that held it, a large hand gently brushing the fabric aside and running its fingers against her collarbone. The other hand still burned her stomach. Any enthusiasm she had shown for this lovemaking session was depleting as her fevers returned, breath shortening and eyelids starting to weigh down. Her husband seemed to note this as his lips stopped on her bare shoulder, straightening up behind her and gently brushing her long, blond hair off from the back of her neck as he gently undid the clasp of the beautiful locket that always hung around her neck. It slipped down, Riccardo's empty hand catching it and gently popping the gold tin open in front of her as he peered over her shoulder. Inside, there was a picture of their one surviving child.

Amadeo. Fiona's heart fluttered as she stared at the picture, taken only a month ago. The boy in it was smiling wide, missing a front tooth as his tan skin glowed in the sun, dark blue eyes glittering like sapphires while his messy brown hair was strewn from wind. An adorable child that could melt hearts, that would no doubt grow to be so handsome he would break many.

Riccardo had successfully impregnated her only weeks after she arrived in the castle. Their son was born before she hit nineteen. He was seven, now; brilliant, ingenious, sweet and innocent, the light of their lives...the only reason she had to live.

In her misery, she had almost forgotten him. It was so hard to focus on the one living child when there were so many dead - so many promises made to the living child shattered when every chance to have a brother or sister slipped by. Eventually they stopped informing him of his mother's pregnancies altogether, to stop him from questioning when that little brother he had been told of would arrive. Fiona could feel the knife in her heart twist at the thought of it.

Yet the picture was soon ripped away as it disappeared into the dark, the soft clink of it being set on the wooden nightstand next to their bed. Fiona trembled as she continued to stare at the air before her - her perfect little boy. Why couldn't have God graced her with another son so beautiful? Why did her babies have to suffer when they did nothing wrong? It wasn't fair.

A soft click lit their room, and she felt herself pulled into the bare arms of the man resting behind her. Her delicate face was taken in both hands, and the blond was forced to look at her captor. He had begun to gray around the temples - white strands scattered throughout his beard. Wrinkles had become more noticeable on his face - yet for a man of sixty-one he was remarkably well preserved. Yet his age seemed lengthened when compared to her youth of twenty five.

He released her face, a hand pressed to her forehead. "Are you tired, my pet? Do you feel ill?" He questioned, "We can stop if you like."

The words reached Fiona's brain, but as her head lay on his chest her ocean blue eyes greedily took in the sight of an ancient, loaded flintlock pistol laying next to her son's picture. The sight stole her words, and she swallowed as she pulled away from her husband's chest - the sound of his strong heart still thumping in her ears. So strong, so full of life for such a broken man...

"N-no." She said, her voice flattering like a plea , "I'm fine. It's okay." Her delicate arms wrapped around his neck, Riccardo running his fingers over her thin waist that her six month belly hid. Despite her numerous pregnancies, Fiona's body was as perfect as the day she had arrived at this castle; fate had decided to gift her with a body that could birth generations with no ill effect. She almost wanted to laugh at the cruel irony of it all.

There was the sound of silk sheets shifting as she felt herself lifted, adjusted to sit on Riccardo's hips as he leaned back against the bed. He grasped her wrists and pulled her close, neck craning upwards to capture the blond's soft, submissive lips in a kiss. Fiona's hands braced themselves against the man's chest, swollen stomach brushing against his own flat abdomen.

Hands began to pry at her buttons again, and Fiona deepened their kiss, her own left hand holding his shoulder as she leaned down. The room was eerily silent aside from the girl's shortened breaths and the sounds of ruffling fabrics.

Yet a thunderous bang interrupted it all.

Fiona's eyes watered as she sat back on her husband's hips, the black powder in the air scorching her lungs as she coughed, flintlock clutched so hard in her hands her knuckles turned bleach white.

Beneath her Riccardo's body shuddered in pain, his throat releasing horse choking sounds as blood made its way up his throat. She had missed his heart and pierced a lung; the hole in his chest spewed blood, flowing like a river off his broken skin and onto their bed, even sliding down his stomach to wet Fiona's thighs.

With a trembling hand he reached for his wound, twitching fingers raising to see the sheen of the red liquid in the dim bedside lamp's light. It then reached for Fiona - his dark blue eyes were wide, irritation, betrayal and disbelief fueling the dying fire within them. Soft hands grasped his wrist, pulling them to rest on her stomach - the thing Riccardo had spent years pining after, working towards, only to have one son come of it. But through his blood, another son would be born from his demise.

The innocent white of her nightgown was stained red from Riccardo's touch. With soft eyes she raised his arm again, bringing his bloody palm to rest on her cheek, where she held it. A thumb caressed at her skin, a perfect red hand print left in its wake as she pulled his appendage away, grasping his large hand with both of hers - like a mournful wife holding her dying husband's hand in a hospital. His fiery orbs had lost the ability to accuse her of the treachery she had committed - instead they began to dim, glossy as they took in the sight of his beautiful angel - the one he had waited years for, the one he had stripped of innocence and forced to bare his children. "Fiona..." The words were nothing but a breath as he choked out her name.

He began to cough, blood passing his lips. Fiona leaned forward, flintlock dropping to the bed as she kissed her dying captor - she could taste the blood on his lips. But most importantly she could taste life. It was fleeting, but it was there. She sat back again.

"I'm going to fix our baby." She said, hands rubbing her stomach. "He's broken; like you. But I can fix him." There was recognition in his eyes as she spoke, yet approaching death had made him too tired to let what little emotions he had show.

With gentle yet slightly crazed eyes, Fiona leaned forward again, lips brushing her captor's parted ones. She was running out of time; she needed her kill fresh.

Kissing him deeply, Fiona's small hands cupped his scarred face as she leaned in. That mark on her back begun to burn; and Riccardo's body began to twitch, eyes blinding searching, as his life disappeared into the pregnant woman on top of him. Fiona could taste his life, the Azoth coursing throughout her body as it fixed any internal wounds, making her feel strong even as the majority of it went to the growing child within, mending his broken skin and fixing his tiny body to be like a normal human - Riccardo had half the Azoth of a normal man, but for a fetus it was more than enough. She gasped against his lips at the delicious feeling of health and power it brought her.

The blond pulled away then, her lips pressing softly once more against her husband's - a gentle kiss of goodbye. The man's corpse had dried further, whatever scars he had scattered throughout his body cracked and extended more so than before. His eyes were glassy and stared off into space. Fiona raised a trembling hand to close his eyelids - that panic began to settle over her. Yet as she leaned back to sit on his hips once more, she deeply breathed in the scent of lavender - and she relaxed. It was a beautiful smell, tainted with the iron scent of her dead lover's blood, yet it calmed her none the less.

Tiredly, she climbed off the corpse beneath her and turned off the light - grabbing her locket and holding it close to her heart as she gently pulled the one open side of the canopy closed - in the dark she settled into her husband's non-breathing side, the pool of blood beneath her warm as she rested her head on his still chest.

The burn of her birthmark faded as the foreign Azoth within her settled - in the end it was not foreign at all, however; all three of the people curled in the large bed, dead or alive, shared the same life, the same past, and the same future.

And now the Belli line would carry on with two Azoth-laden heirs.

Eyes closing, Fiona felt her son kick - and she smiled.

-

**Author's note: **Hello. This is my first time dabbling in the fanfiction world; normally I do all writing through roleplay. I decided to try my hand at fanfiction to show some in-game love, as the Demento fandom appears to have infatuation with OC or crossover pairings and little like for actual in-game pairings. The ridiculous Fiona hate almost rather grits on my nerves.

An actual note on the story - Fiona refers to Riccardo as her 'husband' numerous times in this story. I realize this might lead to some confusion as to why she'd even let a man she's obviously terrified and disgusted by touch her, let alone refer to him with an intimate term as such. Keep in mind this fic takes place seven years in the future - considering what we saw of Fiona in ending D, I'm sure it's safe to say she's long since lost any real sanity. I've always seen Fiona falling prey to Stockholm Syndrome as a way to cope with her now permanent living situation at Belli Castle. I didn't mention this in the actual writing because a reference to it came off as awkward and misplaced. 


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